Writing From Roseau

Oh the things we like…

by Joseph Roseen


Imagine a world

Imagine a world that you made

Image the art you’ve made

It sits in its own light

The gallery only you see

This gallantry of the mind’s work

Old and new, smells and taste of old dew

From the work of which this great gallery made

The heart of the mind crafts- -a world onto

That which the hope of new may form

The desire of the heart and mind be born anew

In this world In this galaxy

In this place to be a god

To not be shared with the world.


By Kayla Santi

Bright and warm outside.

Popsicles in the heat.

Laying near the pool on the deck

Trying to get tan.

My friends by my side.

Out in the country.


By Lexi Jacobson

I love the sound of this word,

How easy it makes everything sound.

When you hear the word simple

You think plain or easy.

It soothing when you find something

Simple in life, almost as if

A weight has been lifted

Off your shoulders.


By Evie Johnson

Waking up early

Running to the dock

To touch

The sun just

Barely poking through

The trees

The stream

So cold from

The mountain

Yet so clean.

You hear a call

So familiar.

You run, the grass

So soft under

Your bare feet.

You meet.

Her hug so soft.


By Maddie Nix

He’s my dog.

From jumping on me

To nipping my fingers

He was always mine.

I claimed him.

To the smell of dog food

The sound of squeaky toys.

Bringing me a toy

To throw

Barking while he runs—

That nice howl

Then late at night

He curls up

Right by me


I feel his soft fur

Right up against me

I feel him breathing.

I hear his slight snore.

Goodnight, Diesel.


Summer Nights
By Kyle Erickson

After a humid day

The sun sets

Light fades into dark

The cool breeze in my hair

The small glimmer

Against the deep blue

The smooth shape of the moon

Pierces the sky

A spotlight for the dancing grasses

A graceful summer night.


By Chloe Johnson

Soft and quiet

Laying in my backyard watching

I point up

Fluffy white ones

Are shy and quiet

The dark ones

Are angry and

Aren’t afraid

To let you know.

If I could grab one

It would fall because

Of the delicacy

they have.


By Jacob Kallis

Cold, the bittersweet sound.

From brittle cracks of rifles to sharp cracks of ice.

Cold the white bright sight.

To white-topped mountains with beaming glaze of ice.

Cold the best winter soul.


The Lake
By Kalliann Solberg


The dock sways

In the warm calm water.

The sun beating down.

We swim.

The fish swim.

Fresh air as

We lay on the dock

With a can of corn

Trying to catch Sunnies

Or frogs.

Back to the quiet cabin

As we see less blues

And more orange.


Late August, 1:43 a.m.
By Spencer M.

Nice, mellow night

The moon was bright

Soft, gentle rain

Gently drips off the roof

Simple chords amplified

By the Fender.


Few friends, laid back

Pink Floyd, Ice Cube, Wu tang

Playful pushing

Eventually we’d have to move

Not quite yet.

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